Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune eBook

It was the custom of the invaders to burn all their
resting places when they left them, and to slay all
captives, save such as could be held to ransom, or
a few whom they detained in slavery, till they died
a worse death from want and ill usage.

Thus they moved from spot to spot, until towards the
middle of November they reached the coast opposite
the Isle of Wight, in which unfortunate island they
decided, after due consideration, to winter.

Opposite the host, across the Solent, rose the lovely
and gentle hills of the “garden of England;”
but between them lay the Danish fleet, in all its
grandeur, calmly floating on the water. Each of
the lofty ships bore the ensign of its commander;
some carried at the prow the figures of lions, some
of bulls, dolphins, dragons, or armed warriors, gaudily
painted or even gilded; while others bore from their
mast the ensign of voracious birds—­the
eagle, the raven—­which appeared to stretch
their wings as the flag expanded in the wind.

The sides of the ships were also gay with bright colours,
and as the warriors embarked and hung up their bright
shields, grander sight was never seen.

But chiefly Alfgar admired the ship of Sweyn, called
the “Great Dragon.” It was in the
form of an enormous serpent; the sharp head formed
the prow, with hissing tongue protruding forth, and
the long tail tapered over the poop.

In this ship Anlaf himself had his place, in deference
to his descent, and Alfgar accompanied him. It
may easily be imagined he would sooner have been elsewhere.

Scarcely a fishing boat belonging to the English could
be discerned: the Danes made a desert around
them.

Eight years before, in the year 998, they had wintered
on the island, and since that time had regarded it
as a Danish colony. No English remained in it
save in the position of slaves, and the conquerors
had accumulated huge stores of spoil therein, while
they drew their stores of provisions from every part
of the adjacent mainland.

“Is it not a grand sight, Alfgar?” exclaimed
his father. “Are you not proud of your
people, the true monarchs of the sea?”

Alfgar was for the moment inclined to sympathise;
but he thought of the darker side of the picture,
and was silent.

There was a higher glory far than all this, and it
had left a lifelong impression on his soul.

CHAPTER X. CARISBROOKE IN THE ELEVENTH CENTURY.

The fleet bore the troops of savage soldiery safely—­too
safely—­across the waters of the Solent,
to the estuary formed by the Medina, where now thousands
of visitors seek health and repose, and the towers
of Osborne crown the eastern eminences. A fleet
may still generally be discerned in its waters, but
a fleet of pleasure yachts; far different were the
vessels which then sought the shelter of the lovely
harbour, beautiful even then in all the adornment of
nature.